by The Behrg
Jenna looked at Blake, eyes pleading. “Don’t let them do this.”
“I’m drawing the line here,” Blake said. “We stay together at night. Adam too.”
“Your call, but if you break a rule, I break a rule,” Joje said.
Drew continued up the stairs toward Jenna, who fell back, bumping into the railing. She began crawling up the stairs backward. “Stay away from me! You stay away!”
“You can’t do this!” Blake said, moving toward the stairs.
“Drew?” Joje said.
Drew turned back around on the stairs, a sentinel standing guard. He was as big as any bouncer Blake had seen.
Blake paused on the bottom step. “If you touch her—”
“No one will touch anyone. You have it all wrong,” Joje said.
“Just here to observe,” Drew said, a complete lack of emotion on his face.
“He’ll be in the same room as her, that’s all. Watching,” Joje said. “Adam, you’ll be restrained but on your own tonight. Most nights, I imagine.”
Adam nodded as if this made perfect sense.
“Why don’t you bring your dad’s toiletries down so we can avoid another outburst,” Joje said.
Adam scampered up the stairs, giving Drew a wide berth.
Jenna’s eyes burned down at Blake, and it wasn’t from the alcohol.
Joje smiled. “Have a good night.”
7
Adam lay atop his mattress set against the bed railings that had yet to be put together. His jaw ached from the grin on his face. His arm was bent backward, handcuffed to a bedpost, a bedpost as portable as a hockey stick.
What an idiot, Adam thought.
When Drew had pulled the handcuffs from their duffle bag, Adam hadn’t complained or put up a fight. Instead he posed a question.
Where do you want me.
With no bed put together and his room looking like the aftermath of a garage sale, Drew had put the question back on Adam.
Just like Adam knew he would.
After cuffing him, Drew asked why his room was the only one not set up. Adam’s reply had been planned, as had the response it garnered from the giant albino.
To piss off my dad.
Drew’s smirk revealed everything Adam had hoped for. Make him think they were coconspirators, on the same side. Hell, maybe they were.
It had been a relief to discover Drew would be the one watching his mom and him. Joje scared him. Not because of the kidnapping; Adam was actually looking forward to the “pwoject”—it would at least make for an interesting end to his summer. Adam simply couldn’t read Joje, not like he could other people, and that was more frightening than any amount of threats or hints of violence.
Adam had a gift, a way to know what someone would do before they did it, to predict their reactions, foresee their behavior, and he used it to get the results he desired. With teachers, friends, lately with girls, and especially with his parents. It was why he had been so upset about the move; his parents would never understand. He had followers back home.
Followers.
Like a prophet. And they obeyed Adam’s command.
It was intoxicating, this power, and while he knew he could regroup and start over, “make new friends” as his father put it, he missed that feeling now. Of watching someone come to a decision they thought was their own, never realizing Adam had fit his arm up their ass, their head nodding when he moved up and down, mouth opening at the split of his thumb and forefinger, words repeating what he whispered in their ear.
He hadn’t been born with his gift; it had been hard earned, though he didn’t like thinking about that.
He knew he was gifted, because he had never been caught. No one realized how he turned the conversation or how they forgot what they had initially come to him about. His response or lack of response always elicited the results he wanted.
People were so stupid.
But Joje, he was something else. It was like he could see through Adam, see what he was really after. Like when Adam set up his dad to take the fall, pretending to just want to follow the rules—Joje knew what he had been doing.
Pulling the I-don’t-want-anyone-to-get-hurt card, Joje had called his bluff. Straight out.
“You sure?” he had asked.
It had taken Adam so off guard he hadn’t known how to respond. Luckily his father hadn’t caught on.
But while Joje was something of a mystery, Drew could have been hypnotized by a kindergartener. Before Drew had left his room, Adam had shared with him a little secret—since after all, they were coconspirators.
“She sleeps naked. Don’t tell her I told you.”
If a fire had burned behind Drew’s eyes, it would have been stoked to blazing.
And with that, Adam had him. It was a lie, of course, but one he’d never be caught for. He only wished he could be in the room when Drew demanded she sleep in the nude.
Jenna always walked around her room naked; Adam had plenty of recordings, though he kept them well hidden. This would be something completely different, however, and her looks, instead of helping to talk her way out of a situation, would only make things worse. If only he could have caught it on film.
Jenna relied far too much on the looks she got from other men, at the gym, at Starbucks, anywhere her fake boobs and tanned pelican legs would take her. Adam still remembered the teacher-parent conference four years ago with Mr. Morrison.
No wife of mine will ever get away with that kind of behavior, he thought.
He smiled, chained up in his room, yet, for the first time since they had arrived in this awful new house, feeling so free.
This would be a fun seven days.
Chapter Three
Day Two
1
Blake walked up to the mirrored glass doors of his office building, hoping the reflection of his shaking hands was just a warp in the glass. “Fake it till you make it” wasn’t supposed to apply to someone his age or at his level. His plan, however, was as thin as the line he was walking with Joje. One misstep and there would be no going back.
On the drive up, Blake couldn’t count the number of times he had contemplated finding a nice piece of wall to ram his M6 into. Maybe the center divider at an angle that would propel Joje up and over, straight into oncoming traffic, or a quick plunge off the rise of a cliff into unforgiving waves.
Unfortunately, he knew where that would lead his family, a death not nearly as quick as a watery grave.
One long breath to clear his mind and turn that interior switch to the on position. He’d only have one chance. It was all he would need.
Blake entered the building.
He did not hold the door for Joje.
The front receptionist, Cyndi, with the Y and I reversed in a failed attempt at chic originality, greeted them coolly. Thin to the point of anorexic, her beady eyes bored into Blake as if she held some personal grudge against him.
She gave a light toss of her head, her too-blond hair barely acknowledging the movement. Blake had met her once before and hadn’t cared for her then either.
“Could you let Jim know I need to see him?” Blake asked as he continued past.
“Actually, Mr. Crochet”—she leaned over her massive glass desk to call after him—“Mr. Crochet?”
Blake stopped. Joje stood behind him, looking completely out of place. This wasn’t going to work.
“Who is this?” Cyndi asked.
“He, not this. And in the future, take care how you refer to a potential partner,” Blake said.
Joje smiled, once again not helping the situation.
“Mr. Tanner actually suggested, should I see you come in today,” she paused, denoting the apparent question that had been, “that I have you wait in the lobby for him.”
Blake stared down at Cyndi. This twenty-something secretary who thought being a bitch was part of the job requirement, stringy bleached hair cut to look like a mannequin, stunning dress revealing all leg but covering everything
up top—not that there was much to showcase. He was certain she had to show her tiny tits three times a day to some minor executive just to stay employed.
“Cyndi. Let Jim know my guest and I are on our way to his office.”
“Well, your guest will need to sign in.” She brought out a thin tablet they used as a digital clipboard. All about presentation.
Blake’s eyes never left hers. He supposed some men got off on reigning in that kind of attitude. “Don’t ever talk down to me again.”
He ushered Joje past the hall to the glass staircase leading up to JT’s office. As they began their ascent, he noticed Cyndi on the phone, watching them go.
“Do you always lie at your job,” Joje asked.
“You haven’t left me much of a choice. Unless you want me to tell them the truth?”
Joje’s left eyed twitched, blinking rapidly. His face drew down in an awkward yawn. “I want this to be as close to real life as possible.”
Blake suddenly shoved Joje up against the side of the staircase. They were in that perfect position where no one could see them, from above or below. Blake held him close, the back of his arm pressed against Joje’s throat, faces almost touching. He could feel the tremble in Joje’s frame.
“What the hell do you think this is? Real life . . . ? I’m doing what you asked, playing by your rules, but here, you play by mine. I’ve got one chance here. One!”
Joje’s lips curled up in a tight smile as if he were enjoying this display. Blake pressed harder against his throat. It took every ounce of constraint to allow Joje to keep breathing; he wanted to close his hands around that neck and never let go.
His phone suddenly buzzed. In Joje’s pocket.
“You want me to respond,” Joje said.
Blake released his grip, disgusted with his companion, more disgusted with himself for playing along in this mad charade.
He continued up the stairs. Joje followed, typing a response one finger at a time into the phone. The smile that crept over his face was more frightening than the realization that Blake could have ended Joje’s life—had, in fact, wanted to. And strangely, he didn’t think Joje would have stopped him.
It made Blake shudder. What outcome was Joje hoping for in all this?
One chance. That’s all he needed. It just had to be the right one.
2
A light breeze carried the smell of the ocean mixed with the gargled taint of car exhaust. Still, Jenna sensed drifting on that breeze a freedom she could almost reach out and grab.
Across from the small sloped parking lot, past the Pacific Coast Highway with its occasional passing car, she stared out at the end of the world. At least that’s how she pictured it.
The ocean shook, roared, consumed.
She breathed deep, inspired—feeling braver, stronger.
The Escalade chirped, alarm setting. Turning back to the one-roomed wooden building that was Sunrise Yoga, faded blue paint now an almost colorless gray, Jenna felt the breeze die, air turn stale.
First, her morning runs. Now these bastards would take this from her. One less hour in the day to lose herself; how desperately she needed to remain lost.
Drew stood on the cracked sidewalk, watching her, his eyes never leaving her chest. She shuddered, a cold sweat trickling down her back as she thought about last night. Drew might not have touched her, but she couldn’t escape the feeling of having been raped.
Where has that breeze gone?
“So are we doing this today?” Adam stood next to Drew by the side of the building, sulking even more than usual. Not that she could blame him. Reluctantly, she joined them.
“There’s a skate park in Santa Monica I wanna check out when you’re done,” Adam continued.
“I’ve got a hair appointment after this,” Jenna said. Adam rolled his eyes in response. “This is a women-only facility. You’ll have to wait outside. It’s one room. There’s nowhere I can go.”
“I’m supposed to stay with you,” Drew said.
“And I’m telling you if you want me to maintain my routine, we’ll need to compromise. Your . . . brother was adamant we keep our schedule.”
Drew ran his hands through his greasy hair. “I should call George.”
Adam’s face suddenly lit up, his eyes brightening. “I thought he put you in charge of us? You call the shots. You don’t need his permission.”
Careful, Adam.
Jenna reached out to put her hand on his shoulder, but he ducked her, drawing closer to Drew.
“It’s not like you can be with both of us at all times anyway,” Adam continued. “Think about it—Jenna runs around to a million places, I’ve got my things that I do. You’re going to have to trust one of us to be on our own. Unless you keep us both locked up at the house.”
Damnit!
Jenna almost slapped Adam; the kid had no finesse. As soon as she got inside, she’d be able to get help. Sure, it’d be embarrassing, but there were far worse things to worry about. Their bedtime routine, for one.
“I’m going to be late.”
“Wait,” Drew said.
Jenna continued toward the front corner of the studio. From there, she could sprint to the building, get inside before he even realized what was happening.
“Ow!” Adam cried out.
“I said wait!”
Drew had Adam’s arm twisted behind his back, causing Jenna to halt. The boy was up on his tiptoes, trying to release the pressure, a grimace on his face. The parking spaces in front of the bike and surf shops were empty, not a single passerby or witness around.
“You want to see your son, get back in the car.”
Jenna hesitated. And Adam saw it.
“She doesn’t care,” he said. “She’s not my real mom.”
His words couldn’t have been more damning. She left the side of the building, rushing to Adam and cradling him in her arms. He pulled away from Drew, returning the embrace.
“I am your mother. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Adam responded with a choked gasp, his head resting against her bosom. Despite having made the right decision Jenna couldn’t help but feel like an invisible glass had just been lowered over her, walling her in on every side.
A gear ticked another notch closer to a darkness as consuming as the ocean, an ink stain sickness that knew only how to feed and multiply.
“Get in the car,” Drew said. “I’ll drive.” He took the keys from her, opening the passenger door. A true gentleman.
She slid in, the closing of that door sending the gear tumbling yet another notch.
“Love you, Jenna,” Adam said from the backseat.
“You too, kiddo. You too.”
3
The clear glass walls of JT’s office transformed to an opaque beige, something accomplished with the push of a button. He closed the double doors behind him, rubbing his hand against the gray-tinged goatee on his pocked face, the only hair on his head that still grew. He was young to be the CEO of a global company, the framed Forbes issue with the cover story “Thirty CEOs to Watch in Their Thirties” hanging in the hallway a sign he was not only aware of it, but defined by it.
Blake noticed he was wearing his suit jacket. Not a good sign.
“JT, let me introduce you to a . . . friend. A potential partner.” He motioned to Joje who looked as confused as Blake’s boss.
JT shook his hand and nodded, turning his attention back to Blake. “A word?” He nodded to his office.
Blake pressed forward. “George, this is Jim Tanner, or JT. He’s the vision behind the numbers and science. One of the youngest CEOs to build a Fortune-Five from the ground up. If things progress like I believe they will, he would be the one to carry this deal through.”
He turned to JT. “This is George. I’ve . . .” He paused. “It’s a little complicated. I promised not to reveal his last name or the . . . company he’s associated with but—”
“I didn’t know we were looking for partners,” JT sa
id.
“A partnership is where both parties mutually benefit,” Blake quipped. “Sometimes they’re not sought after. They just appear, knocking at your front door. But only a fool turns away what he hasn’t considered.”
JT looked Joje over once more, no doubt noticing the same discrepancies Blake had upon their first meeting. Blake could only hope he ascribed them to eccentricities.
He took JT aside, speaking softly, but still in range of Joje being able to overhear. “Look, you hired me not only because of what I can do, but who I know. This is big. It could change everything.”
“One of my many concerns,” JT whispered back, the menace in his words not lost in the lowered volume. He smiled briefly at Joje, then continued. “I run this business. I make these decisions. Maybe that wasn’t clear when you interviewed.” He spit out this last word as if it were the most horrendous curse in a sailor’s dictionary.
Joje’s left eye started blinking rapidly, his mouth opening in a constant yawn—the hushed tones were becoming a problem.
“I don’t want a fricking excuse for yesterday, and I don’t want to be accosted by some freak show clown you owe a favor to. All I want is for you to invent a damn time machine so you can bring my presentation to the meeting that happened twenty-four hours ago! And maybe, just maybe, you’ll even travel back to a time when you were still employed here!” JT’s voice had risen so loud his entire frame was shaking. “I want your phone before you leave. I’ll send a driver to pick up the rest.”
Blake forced himself to remain calm. A shouting match would only seal his fate. He pointed instead toward the Forbes article, hoping to God his hand would stop shaking.
“You’re on that wall because when the stakes get too high and others fold, you go all in. You know when to stay in the game. And this—right now—is a moment you will always regret. If you back out.” Blake lowered his tone to a whispered hush. “Without even knowing what’s to gain.”
Joje cleared his throat, glancing down, then spoke. “Wiw find someone else.” He gave a dismissive glance toward JT and started down the stairs.